Rawr
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: Post-Ep Final Frontier. Because Castle deprived of Lt. Chloe cosplay with KBex is JUST PLAIN WRONG. (and because ppl followed this - why? - there's a second chapter, in which Beckett obsesses over babies. Awesome.)
1. Chapter 1

Kate found him on the couch, seated in the far corner, his eyes focused on the Nebula 9 DVD menu screen on the TV. The familiar theme music filled the room, and she smiled.

"You really gonna go through with this?" She asked as she made her way over to the couch, still clad in the tight, short, uniform, and the world's most uncomfortable shoes.

Castle glanced up, his shoulders slumping in relief at the sight of her. "Thank god," he muttered.

She had removed the mask, having had her fun, and left it on the bedside table as she had exited the room. She ran a hand through her still mussed hair, and smiled playfully. "I wanna make out," she said huskily, stepping up to the couch, slinking down next to him on the cushion. She turned to him, her shifting body causing the skirt to ride up to an indecent height and reveal a hint of black lace panties. She licked her lips, her own eyes darting to his slightly-parted lips. She glanced just a little higher, found his eyes on her bare thighs, and, slowly, in a teasing display that gave more than just a hint of what she wore beneath, she crossed her legs. She straightened her spine and raised herself higher, pushing her breasts out as she did so, feeling the straining of the material across her chest.  
Her hands rested flat on his chest, and she slid one across, ran a finger down the buttons of his shirt, all the way down to the bulge in his pants. "Do you wanna make out, Castle?" She breathed the words out, drawing her body even closer to his, her lips now barely an inch from his.

He couldn't speak. His mouth opened, closed, and a strangled groan was all he managed to produce before her lips were on his. She dragged a fingernail along the tight material that was restraining his need for her, ran it back up to his chest. Her hands clenched around his shirt, the material gripped tight in her fists, and she tugged him closer as her mouth worked his.  
His eyes had left her long, bare thighs, his hands now skimming across the skin his attention had been trained on. His palms slid higher, under the short skirt of the uniform, dragging up what little material there was, until it bunched at her waist.

She uncrossed her legs, allowing him better access. Her lips parted wider as his tongue slid against hers, and she clung to his shirt still, keeping her anchored, keeping her from sliding off the couch in a desperate needy mess of her usual contained self. Then his warm hand slipped her underwear to the side, stroked up and around where she needed his most, and she pulled back, inhaling a gasp of arousal at his touch.

Breathing heavy, her chest heaving against the confines of the uniform, she turned her eyes to the TV. Releasing his shirt, she reached for the remote and hit play.

His hands, having never broken contact throughout her movements, stilled. "What?" He asked breathlessly, confused.

She slipped back against him, uniform still bunched around her waist, panties held aside by his motionless hand, and smiled. "You promised me a marathon," she reminded him, before tilting her head up to trail kisses along his jaw.

He couldn't argue. Not when she was pressed up against him all hot and needy, a salacious spark in her eyes that he was getting lost in.

The first episode began, the opening scenes of the pilot episode, the moment, oh so long ago, that she became a fan - but she saw none of it now. The images on the screen ignored, the music and dialogue, the explosions and phaser fire, all just background sounds she barely heard. To the soundtrack of a show that had defined her nineteen year old self, Castle leaned her back along the length of the couch, and began his own explorations.

He eased her ridiculous shoes off, kissed his way up her thigh, spent time getting lost in her scent, her taste like the waters of Lethe making him forget the world. Only once she was shuddering beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and sighing his name, did he help her off the couch on unsteady feet, and kiss their way back to his bedroom.

His back to the bed, the sounds from the television filtering through into the room, she faced him and reached her hands up to tug at the zip on the back of her uniform. He stopped her, his hands at her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Leave it on," he murmured, his breath hot against her neck, his body hard against hers.

She felt an odd moment of hesitation. Not of his desire to make love to her in costume, but of exactly whose uniform she was wearing. Dressed as the TV character who had made her want to be more than just one thing, who made her realize she didn't have to choose. The warrior, the scientist, the woman she had admired. And now here she was, someone she herself would have looked up to, and she suddenly no longer felt in costume. She didn't feel like Lt. Chloe. She felt like herself, fighting evil and saving humanity. She blinked away the hesitation. _It's Castle's fantasy_, she reminded herself. _This is for him_.

She pushed him back onto the bed, pinning him to the mattress with her gaze. She leaned forward, a knee beside him on the bed, the other soon following. Hands and knees inching her forward, spine curving, ass raised, she was every fanboy's wet dream.

Through dark eyes, dilated pupils, he watched her every move. He reached for her as she straddled him, lowered herself, and pinned him down with her long, lean body on his.  
His hands curled at her waist, raising the uniform back up, exposing the tops of her thighs, her black, sheer, barely-there panties.

She slid her pelvis against his, teasing him through the material still between them. His fingers pressed into her hip bones, pulling her down closer to him, increasing the pressure, the frustrations.

And then he froze - and she realized he has caught sight of something in his peripheral vision, something she had forgotten about. His hand released her, his arm extended, and he pushed the latex mask off the bedside table, a grunt leaving his lips as he did so.

A chuckle escaped her own lips at his discomfort; she pressed down harder, the friction of her body against his bringing him back to her. Her lips met his, her mouth opened, her tongue sliding with his, and she made him forget.

* * *

**AN: I'm 30,100 words into my NaNoWriMo story and going strong, but I couldn't resist a short break to do a little post-ep. Hope you didn't expect substance of any kind ;-) Not beta'd, apologies for mistakes.  
**

**Back to my NaNo haze now... (but reviews might entice me to post a chapter of one of my WIPs...)**


	2. Chapter 2

But there was something _she _couldn't forget.

Something she had managed to not react noticeably to, and had seemingly brushed aside.

Something that had been bouncing loud and hard around in her brain since the words had left his mouth in the precinct.

_More kids_. Castle wanted the option of more kids.

And she hadn't known how to process that little bit of information he had casually thrown out, tossed her way without even a sideways glance to catch her reaction.

She had hidden it, pushed it deep down and had tried to pretend such words were never uttered, but she was failing now.

Lying on her side, facing him, her hand gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from his closed eyes, while her heart and mind waged battles she couldn't even begin to subdue. Her eyes wide open and focused, her brain refusing to switch off, she knew she would see the sunrise, while he just kept on snoring softly, sprawled on his back, sheets bunched at his waist, over his little scare from earlier.

Her hand stilled, fell back down to rest on the small piece of unoccupied mattress between them. She was not over hers.

And it was so incredibly stupid she just wanted to shake her head, chide herself, and go back to sleep. Except, she couldn't.

He would like the option of more children in the future. Not now. Not in the near future. He hadn't even said with her. Just the _option_.

What he didn't know, what she wasn't even close to telling him, was that similar thoughts had been bouncing quietly through her mind for longer now than she would care to admit. Tonight those thoughts picked up speed, increased in volume, screamed out for her entire self to hear - and now her heart was involved.

There had dreams in which she is pregnant, dreams in which he is the father. She had dreamed of a life lived with the snoring, oblivious, yet wonderful, man beside her.

And she would do it. All of it. A lifetime, a family. She wasn't dreaming now, but the images lingered. She watched him sleep, watched him blissfully unaware of the thoughts dominating her mind. Thoughts he unintentionally put there.

So, she may need to punish him in the morning. When her eyes are red from interrupted sleep, and her hand is shaking as she makes her first coffee of the day, when she is so exhausted she can barely think about shuffling out of his loft back to her own home to get ready for work, that's when her mind will be working overtime. Her own personal, seemingly flippant, comment, one for him to fixate on, lose sleep over, and be genuinely absolutely terrified of.

Like a little reminder she is a one and done kind of girl - and she is ready for her own dreams to come true.

* * *

**AN: NaNoWriMo procrastination FTW!**


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